


Grass and Chemicals

by ohjohnnyboy



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Self-Hatred, but maybe mike's just tired of being the tough one, slight ooc mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjohnnyboy/pseuds/ohjohnnyboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike realizes how much he hates himself and how much he loves Micky Dolenz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grass and Chemicals

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored and thought about Mike having such a low view on himself, and this happened! This is trash and non beta'd.

The ocean really was beautiful at night, Mike thought. Many people had told him this before, but he'd never taken time to actually go down to the beach at night. Didn't care for the beach much in the first place, let alone at night, when it was cold and gloomy. But, Mike was surprised to find that it really was breathtaking.

The way the moonlight hit the waves, sending ripples of white into the shore. The cool night breeze making it the perfect temperature to sit and stare for a while. The best thing about it, though, was that very few people were there. Very few gathered at night, and even those people were families walking along the shore searching for seashells. People like that wouldn't notice or care for people who sat by themselves under the pier.

Which was exactly what Mike was doing. He'd tried to sleep but lay there for an hour before heading down to the beach. Maybe the waves would coax him to sleep or something.

Instead, they'd kept him up until three am. He looked at his watch, and it read 3:26. Damn. It was late, but he couldn't bring himself to go back inside. He had too much on his mind.

The past few weeks had been hard. Well, Mike's whole life had been difficult, but it'd really hit him hard this month. What was "it" exactly? The realization that he was a pathetic failure, that's what "it" was.

From day one, Mike had been a failure. He was born a week late, he'd been told. Had his mother worried sick that he'd been a miscarriage. His mother had been planning a forced labor when her water broke.

Mike couldn't even be born right.

He'd told his mom that he'd be a big star, playing rock 'n' roll and making big money. He'd not even talked to his mother in over a year, afraid to tell her the real situation. He was living in a beach house he could barely afford with three other broke asses, barely able to eat dinner each night.

He knew his mother would be ashamed.

This thought drove Mike to tears. He brought his knees to his chest and hugged him. He sobbed into his legs, his body shaking rapidly.

After a moment or two of unabashed sobbing, he felt an arm around him. He didn't even question it, he just leaned into the touch and kept sobbing. He knew it was Micky, could tell by the smell of various chemicals and grass. Stupid Micky and his stupid chemistry set.

"Shh, babe," Micky whispered. "It's alright."

"No, it's not Mick," Mike sobbed. "I've let her down. I've let her down and I'm too coward to tell her."

"Who've you let down?"

"Mama," Mike said, burying his face in Micky's armpit and gripping Micky's shirt in his hands. "I'm a failure and she doesn't even know. Doesn't know I'm a failure, doesn't know anything. I've not spoken to her in a year, Mick. My own mother."

"You could call her up," Micky offered.

"And tell her what? That her little Mike spent all his money just to come here and be a failure? That he's not had dinner three nights in a row? That he's fallen in love with another man? I'm a huge failure! I can't let my mama down like that!" Mike sobbed, realizing that he admitted his homoeroticism but too afraid to say anything about it.

"You're not a failure, Mike," Micky whispered. "Don't think like that."

"But I am, Micky," Mike said. "I can't do anything right."

Micky pushed Mike away from him, and looked into his eyes. Mike shuddered at the intimacy, and felt uncomfortable in how close they were, but didn't try to fight it.

"Mike, you are one of the greatest people I know," Micky said. "You really are. You keep the band together, you keep us grounded or we'd be all over the place. Sure, the band's not doing all that well right not financially, but that's not your fault. You're of the best guitarists around here, Mike. One of the best songwriters, too."

Mike clenched his fists and pressed them into his face.

"You're just saying that so you don't have to see my ugly face cry," Mike said. "I'm garbage, Micky. Trash. No cares about me or whether or not I die."

Micky pulled Mike's fists away from his face and said, "If you were to die, I don't know what I'd do."

"Take over guitar like you wanted to in the first place," Mike said.

Micky chuckled and held Mike's hands, rubbing them soothingly.

"Then who'd drum?"

"Davy's gotten pretty good," Mike said, shrugging.

Micky laughed, and said, "Are you trying to put me out of a job, babe?"

"Never, Shotgun," Mike said, laughing. He leaned in for a hug, but stopped, uncertain. Micky noticed this, and pulled Mike into his chest.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, you stupid Texan," Micky whispered into Mike's hair.

Mike took a deep breath (grass and chemicals was suddenly what Mike lived for) and said breathlessly, "I love you, too."

Micky pulled away and stood up. Micky offered Mike a hand, and Mike use it to pull himself up. Mike dusted the sand off of himself. The wind blew Micky's hair, and Mike pushed a piece of it behind Micky's ear. Micky laughed and put his hands on his hips.

"You're not, y'know," Micky said. "Ugly, I mean."

Mike chuckled, and said, "Thanks man. For everything you've done."

"It's not problem man," Micky said. "You're my best friend. Friends don't turn their backs on each other."

Mike grinned, and said, "Come on, Mick. It's late."

"Okay," Micky said, and they began to make their way back to the Pad.

Suddenly, Micky stopped. "But, Mike, one more thing."

"What's that?"

"You said you'd fallen in love with another man," Micky said. "If you don't mind me asking, who is it? That you've fallen in love with?"

Mike looked Micky. Micky's hair continued to blow in the breeze, covering most of his face. The moonlight hit Micky's hazel eyes, illuminating them into a lighter value. The moon accented Micky's cheekbones and eyelashes, giving him even more of a feminine look. His lips were littered with salt and pursed into seriousness, but the mischievousness never left his face.

Mike sighed at how obvious the answer was.

"Ah, nobody," Mike said. "Don't worry about it."

"Alright," Micky said, shrugging.

Mike and Micky made their way into the Pad and each changed into their pajamas and got into their respectful beds.

"Night, Mike," Micky whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mr. Nobody," Mike whispered back.

And even in the dark, Mike could still see the grin spread across Micky's face.

 


End file.
